As from out this single tree
In whose fruits, down-shook
All identify with; Upsoaked
Whose viewpoints, new-found
Dishonour's woeful sense. Sin's
Bored through. Sin's rot-bound.
As from out that one spread hand
Cups the cosmic whole
Above us; leaving each night
For God's tears, dewy
What void for that, spirit-starred
Hung we for glory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem